


We can't always get what we want

by angededesespoir



Series: Mc76 Week [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (jack's feelings are kinda ambiguous), (jesse & jack become close friends), (jesse is pining over both jack & gabe), (only we know they're not actually dead but jesse doesn't know this), Angst, Food mention, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Multi, Other, when you accidentally start projecting on certain characters- oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 12:31:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9271844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angededesespoir/pseuds/angededesespoir
Summary: In which some plans fail, a friend is earned, and everything gradually falls apart.





	

**Author's Note:**

> _For Day 1- Past/Then and Now._  
> 
> _.....Tfw the characters go off script & you just kinda have to roll w/ it and rework your plans._
> 
> _(Anyway, so despite my original intentions, this wound up becoming Jesse pining after Jack & Gabe, and instead of Jack and him getting together like I originally wanted, they wind up becoming really close friends (w/ Jesse still having feelings for him.....and Jack’s feelings are a bit ambiguous, I suppose). This is mostly centered on Jack & Jesse, but I will say that Gabe and Jack are together in this fic. [briefly & in implied statements] ~~because I’m a multishipper & despite trying to suppress it, one of the OTPs had to emerge, I guess. (*Glares at myself* Can you not do one thing right?)~~ _
> 
> _I’m thinking I’m probably going to try writing another thing for this prompt, too, where I can actually manage to get Jack & Jesse together._
> 
> _For now, complicated friendship will have to do.)_
> 
> _Anyway, hopefully this is okay._
> 
> _(Can be read on[Tumblr](http://angededesespoir.tumblr.com/post/155649060755/we-cant-always-get-what-we-want).)_

He’s just turned twenty when he starts to notice the feelings emerge.

It happens suddenly, after a particular incident, late one night when he had gone to deliver a report to Reyes. He approached the open door quietly, about to knock when his eyes locks onto the pair. He instinctively moves back into the shadows, watches the commanders as they tenderly kiss, hands lovingly caressing eachother. He knows he should probably leave, but he can’t seem to make himself turn away. 

He has never seen the two so gentle, so seemingly at ease. He has only seen them hard at work, focused and serious (the occasional joke or smile, of course, but nothing like this). 

There’s a sudden pang in his heart as he watches. _‘This is love,’_ he realizes. This is love, and it hits him just how badly he wants a taste.

He hastily moves back down the hall (he’s already seen too much, and he doesn’t want to risk getting caught), heads to his room, original task forgotten.

He cannot get the image out of his head. He can’t help but fantasize- an alternation of Jack’s soft lips and Gabriel’s cracked ones against his own, what their muscular bodies would feel like pressed against him.

He keeps flicking back to Jack, though. He doesn’t get the privilege of seeing him often, of interacting with him much.

He wants that more than anything.

\--

It’s a few months later when he finally works up the nerve. 

He's rattling on about a report and when he reaches the end, when he still holds the commander’s full attention, he asks him on a date. Nothing big- just a dinner date over a movie on TV. 

(He figures that few to no people know about the two commanders, and he doesn’t quite know how to approach Gabriel, how to voice his desires, how to face possible rejection. But with Jack, there’s still distance. If something goes wrong, he’s easier to avoid. It’d be easier to pretend like nothing happened.

And regardless of how things went, he figures this is the easiest way of killing two birds with one stone. Jack will have to tell Reyes about the encounter, he thinks.)

Jack looks stunned. “This is.....unexpected.”

Jesse rubs the back of his neck nervously, but tries to act flippant, like it doesn’t matter to him if the man accepts or not. “It’s nothing serious or anything. I just thought you could use a little break, a little fun. If it makes you feel more comfortable, you can invite Commander Reyes to join us.”

He swears for a second that Jack looks like he’s seen a ghost, but then he’s composed again. “Why would I-”

“It’s okay,” Jesse cuts him off. “I know about the two of you. Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.”

Jack tries not to show any emotion, but Jesse can sense the uneasiness..

“Listen, Jack,” he gives a pause, tests the water. Morrison does not object. “I like the two of you. A lot. I reckon it’d be nice to spend some time with y’all outside of work, where we can toss aside titles and just enjoy time together as equals. There’s no pressure. Take your time to think it over, discuss it with...Gabriel.”

Jack shifts in his chair. “.....Jesse, listen, I like you. You’re a good agent. But have you thought about this? How it would look if I- I mean, with our positions, not to mention age...”

Jesse rests a hand on the desk, leans forward. “Jack, I’ve thought about this. I thought about this for months. Listen, I’m not a kid. I know there’s possible repercussions. But I trust you two. And I trust we can all keep work separated from our personal lives.”

Jack smiles, shakes his head. “You act as if that’s a simple thing, McCree. But for both Gabriel and I, our lives are our work.”

He clears his throat. “Listen, Jesse, I appreciate your.....admiration, but I don’t think I can reciprocate in the manner you desire. If you wish, we can try to be friends, but I don’t think anything more would be appropriate at this time.” 

McCree shifts. “It’s the rank, ain’t it?”

Morrison smiles sympathetically. “It’s many things. I’m sorry.”

Jesse shrugs, looks down at his feet. “Well, I guess I’ll be going.”

Morrison looks like he’s about to say something; Jesse doesn’t give him a chance.

He’s too busy trying to hold back tears.

\--

It’s two years later. He’s managed to grow closer to Jack. The desire still burns, and sometimes when he catches sight of his smile, there’s a fluttering in his chest.

(It’s the same thing with Gabriel, but his smile is much more rare. It’s a beautiful sight to behold, for those lucky enough to see it. He does what he can to receive such a blessing.

He has not told Gabriel his feelings. If it didn’t work for Jack, it probably won’t for Gabe, and besides- he doesn’t want to cause any conflict between them.

Reyes has never confronted him about his conversation with Jack. Jesse does not know what this means.

He tries his best to crush his hope, to keep his desires in check.)

He meets Morrison when they can. They share some coffee and sometimes Jesse can convince Jack to eat a pastry or a bagel. (It worries him, how little the commander seems to eat, how dark the circles are under his eyes.) He tells him about missions, he tells him stories, he vents. Jack listens, but he rarely talks about his own workload or his personal life.

Jesse doesn’t press him.

\--

It’s a year later and he’s standing at the door of the office, two mugs in hand, about to announce himself.

He freezes in place. He has never seen the commander cry, but here he is- face flushed, tears streaming, choking on sobs as his frame shudders.

He can’t think, so he acts. He’s rushing forward, placing the mugs on the desk, and cautiously approaching the distraught man. He starts whispering his name, hand hovering above Jack’s bicep, half-hesitant to make contact.

Jack turns, startled. He frantically begins wiping at his eyes, the tears refusing to stop. “J-Jesse. Sorry, I must've forgotten about our meeting.”

“Jack, it’s okay.” He finally works up the courage to rest his hands gently on the still trembling arms. Jack does not move or protest, so he takes it that this is acceptable. “What’s wrong?”

Morrison avoids his eyes, wipes at his face again. “It’s nothing. Nothing.”

“Jack, this doesn’t look like nothing.” He hesitates. “Listen, you don’t haveta tell me, but it ain’t good to bottle up so much emotion. You should finish letting it out. I can stay, if you need, or if you’d rather I go, I can do that, too.” He rubs an arm reassuringly. “Just know I’m here for ya, if you need me.”

The tears are still coming, and Jack bites his lip. After a pause, there’s a weakly whispered, “Stay, please?”

Jesse nods. “Of course. I’ll stay as long as you need.” 

He pulls the man towards him, embraces him lightly. Jack’s head is resting on his shoulder. He can feel the tears soaking through his shirt, the shuddering chest against his own, struggling for air between sobs.

He doesn’t know what to do or say, so he pulls him closer, begins a mantra of, “It’ll be Okay.” He repeats it until the words lose meaning, until Jack is still against him, his face stained, but drying.

He continues to hold him.

\--

This begins to happen more frequently, as the cracks begin to show.

\--

He’s nearly 25 when he decides to leave. He hates seeing the rise in corruption (barely veiled by this point), hates to think that he might soon find himself in another gang masquerading as an organization.

It also pains him to see Jack unraveling by the day, to watch his relationship with Gabriel crumbling. There’s nothing he can do, and at this point, little comfort he can provide.

He sees a part of Jack dying when he delivers the news. (Gabriel was easier. Serious, somewhat stoic, but in a way, gentle, supportive.) He nods solemnly, gives his okay. 

Jesse wishes he can take him from this place, too. Take Reyes away with them. This place has destroyed the two of them, robbed them of their once brilliant light.

They deserve more.

He turns away. There is nothing he can do for them.

\--

He’s back in the states, drinking in a bar, when he hears the news. There’s been a explosion back at the Swiss Base. There don’t seem to be any survivors.

The images of Jack and Gabriel overtake his mind as he stares at the rubble on the screen. He feels sick.

He calls the bartender over, orders another bottle of bourbon.

\--

In the morning, he still remembers. 

\--

No matter how much he drinks, he can’t forget them. The voices fade with time, but the scenes still play out.

Sometimes when he shoots he can hear Gabriel’s voice, either a praise or a warning. When he tries to form a strategy, he thinks of what his commander might have done.

Sometimes when he sits atop a train, the people in the train cars below him, munching on food and talking, he is transported back. He remembers Jack’s infectious laugh, his scowl when he drops a pastry and the jam stains his shirt. (Jesse remembers holding back a laugh, going to wet a napkin, trying to help Jack while the man half-heartedly protests, telling him he doesn’t have to. Jesse smiles, tells him it’s not a problem. And it isn’t. It allows him an ounce of the contact he craves.) He remembers Jack cringing when he adds some whiskey to both of their drinks after a particularly rough day. Jack protests, but drinks it anyway.

Sometimes McCree wonders if these memories are a curse or a blessing. Overall, he tries not to dwell on them.

\--

It’s a little over twelve years since he left when the call comes in. 

He’s tired of constantly running. He wants to go back to the only place he could call home, even if the people he loved are no longer there.

It takes him awhile, but he returns. There are few who have come back; still more left to find.

He lights a cigarillo and closes his eyes.

\--

He’s still alive.

He feels too much and nothing at all. Angela’s confession plays over and over in his head.

He stands in the shadows, looking out at two ghosts, knowing that a third is still out there.

Jack’s changed. But so has McCree. They’re both not exactly the same men they once were.

But under the rough exterior, McCree wants to believe that the essence of Jack still remains.

 

When Ana leaves to get more tea, he approaches, drops down by Soldier’s side with a, “Howdy,” and the tip of his hat.

Soldier doesn’t look, takes a sip of his drink. “Angela told you.” It’s more a statement than a question.

McCree is somewhat taken aback by how different the man’s voice sounds. Deeper and rougher, the style more curt, less friendly and open. “Yep.”

There’s silence.

“It’s good to have you back, Jack.”

He sees the hand tighten on the mug. “That’s not my name. I’m just a soldier now.”

 _‘You were never just a soldier. Never to me.’_ “Sorry,” he says. He looks around for a second, then asks, “You down to see a movie?”

“I have work to do. We have a mission coming up.”

He watches the man get up, joints a little stiff. The mask covers his face, again.

McCree nods. “Another time, then.”

He made it work back then; he can make it work again now.

It will just take time.

He can wait.


End file.
